


Frolicking

by shinysparks



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Crack, I've had waaaaay too much caffeine, Sexy times implied, consider yourself lucky they're just implied, for Thymelady, hateful anon shutdown, ichabbie - Freeform, it was SO not moooooooving, last time I tried to write a sex scene animal noises happened, wink wink nod nod oh god what did i write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 16:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8216773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinysparks/pseuds/shinysparks
Summary: Ichabod remembers the blissful night before as he cleans house.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thymelady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymelady/gifts).



> Written to cheer up Thymelady, after [she'd received a hateful anon message over at tumblr in regards to one of her own fics.](http://thymelady.tumblr.com/post/151367383596/cnt-yu-fcking-bitches-giv-it-a-rest-yur-only-butt)

Ichabod gave a heavy sigh as he eyed the spotless house. He was exhausted beyond belief, having scrubbed the place from top to bottom with various, lemon-scented chemicals, after a night of very little sleep. It was necessary, though - so very necessary. One look at the place before he’d cleaned, and one might’ve assumed a sasquatch had gotten loose and frolicked around the house with wild abandon (and in Sleepy Hollow, such a thing might not be so unheard of, either.)

Of course, there had been no sasquatch in the house the night previously. But there had been a lot of frolicking. And sweating. And heaving. And first names had been used. Actually, they had been screamed. Loudly.

Such wild frolicking had led to the need for cleaning, though. Lots and lots of cleaning. And so, Ichabod had scrubbed the countertop and table with disinfectant until they shined. He’d sprayed the sofa down with lysol. The bed sheets had been stripped and were sitting in the laundry basket. The wall had been a little challenging, what with all the broken glass from the picture frames that had been knocked down. And Ichabod was certain that the table they’d also knocked over was busted beyond repair. He made a mental note to visit the local Ikea the next time they were out, right before he took a scrub brush to the ceiling.

The outsides of the windows had been a conundrum, though. He’d only vaguely remembered going outside. He vaguely remembered a tree, and then he vaguely remembered the hood of Abbie’s car, and how cold it had felt against his back. He vaguely recalled praying to the almighty that the neighbors were indeed asleep. But the rest? It was a blur. He wracked his brain for answers; but even his eidetic memory was no match for the warm, blissful glow of happy that had been the night previously.

He settled on the laundry last, picking through the basket of clothes, carefully sorting. He raised an eyebrow as he picked up a thin, translucent camisole that belonged to Abbie.

“I could have sworn I ripped this to shreds with my teeth last night,” Ichabod mumbled to himself, eyeing the completely undamaged lingerie. He gave another sigh as he tossed it into the washer.

“I must endeavor to do better tonight, then,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.


End file.
